Becoming the Hunted
by DaWhoGirl32
Summary: Life was perfect, to an extent. Then things changed. For better or for worse, she wasn't sure. But that one day flipped her whole world upside down. Vaguely reminiscent of The Hunger Games and Brave, but definitely not a crossover. Does not follow their storylines. AU, will eventually be Jisbon x Not sure about the rating, may change in future chapters x
1. Responsibilty

**A/N: He he... My first story for quite a while. Sorry folks! But my God, it's good to be back! :D I started my GCSEs and exams, etc. in September, as I'm now in Year 10! Little scary, a LOT more homework and more boring than ever. But I feel like my English writing may be a little better now as I've been doing more A level stuff. I'll let you lot decide where this plot came from. (*Cough. Hunger Games. Cough, cough, Brave. It's very much reminiscent of them, I think. Anyone who's read/seen them will probably understand what I mean.) It's not a crossover as the description said, but it's definitely AU.**

**So, without further ado, let's get on with it. :)**

In eerie silence, the string of the mahogany bow was pulled, the stone point of the arrow pointed with deadly precision towards the stag's head. A few breaths were exhaled in a gentle cloud of fog, the miniscule drops catching the first few shafts of light that leaked over the horizon; tell-tale signs of the rapidly approaching day.

Only the overhead birds could be heard, singing the song of dawn. So silent was the hunter that the stag did not turn its head even when the arrow was loosed, nor did it accomplish the first few staggering steps that an animal of prey often attempts after the point punctures the hide. The creature was dead the second the tip of the arrowhead made contact with its form, already covered with a hefty coat to ward off the cold winter chill that had engulfed the kingdom.

Straight through the eye and into the brain; her usual clean kill. Not a single drop of blood was spilled onto the blanket of snow beneath the animal, maintaining the pristine blanket that had settled in the forest overnight. Slowly, she let her muscles relax, easing the rigidness with rolls of her shoulders and a shake of her limbs.

Both the biting blizzard the previous night and the many hours of quiet, motionless waiting for passing game had rendered the girl's body unyieldingly restrictive and disobliging. Still, after many years of hunting and gathering in the woodlands, hills and valleys, the girl had grown immensely accustomed to the wiles of the natural world; almost to the point where it had become her second home. The woods offered her protection and sanctuary- a hideaway would perhaps be more precise- from her normal life and responsibilities.

The youngest of six, the most sought after maiden in the village and perhaps the most lethal archer that the kingdom had to offer. It often became so arduous and gruelling that she'd frequently disappear into the forest during the dead of night without a single word. It was as though she and the trees became one. The wind that greeted her, bringing with it the scent of the surrounding wildlife whipped though her hair, rustling her hunting clothes and making the arrows quiver at her back. Gentle babbling streams full of the small fish she'd feast on whilst waiting for larger, more substantial game during the summer. Brittle, golden leaves that swathed the forest floor during the autumn months. This was life at its best.

The girl started to move from her setting to retrieve the stag's body, still peaceful as though it could be sleeping. Of course, the undisturbed creature before her would undoubtedly face a far less innocent fate once the butcher got his hands on it. Still, food was food and she'd be a fool to pass up on a good meal of venison. The village worked as a whole. The women and children grew and gathered crops. The men hunted and cooked the meal. You were given a fair share of the provisions supplied and you could take it or leave it. But you'd have to be quick to get your portion; otherwise someone else would get their hands on it first.

Food was going fast in recent days. With the new assemblage of soldiers and combatants rolling in, nutrients were essential. It was a war the village couldn't afford to lose and they'd need every smidgen of help they could get to escape that fate.

Some people were better off than others of course, like the girl herself. Not only could she hunt and gather on her own, but she came from a very wealthy family of important people and subsequently it was her responsibility to see to it that the village was kept happy and healthy. She would be paid for her services towards the townsfolk but her work was never really done.

She _was _the Princess after all.

**A/N: Gonna see how this goes. I have a plot all worked out in my head, but it depends if anyone wants to read more. Tell me what you think! That little button below doesn't bite you know! ;D x**


	2. Meaningless

**A/N: Whoops! My apologies, I didn't put a disclaimer in the first chapter. The Mentalist isn't mine and it never will be. End of story. And I am also IMMENSELY sorry for the huge gap between chapters; I went away for the week and didn't have any time to post this beforehand, but I promise you all, there won't be a gap that big again! I intend to update quickly from now on! :D **

**Now, it's another introductory chapter, but please bear with me! I'm getting there! Thank you for the reviews and follows and stuff by the way! Enjoy!**

"_You will find it for me and you shall do so within the next week. You will go out and search and you shall not return here unless you have it in your possession. Do you understand me? For your sake, I sincerely hope you do not fail me again."_

That's what he had said. The man with a name but no face; the man to whom the traveller owed a great debt. That was two days ago and the sun was about to set on the third as he walked without tenacity through the valley. Either side of his path were two towering walls of stone and moss that would sporadically discharge chunks of grit and dust down by his leather boot-clad feet.

Icicles hung from the shelves of rock and they caught the last dim sun rays of the day. Like spotlights, they cast the light onto his face in the many different hues of a spring rainbow as the man pondered the flurry of questions and misfortunes inside his head.

He'd not always been so lonely. There had been a woman and a child that had filled the void that was now in place of his heart. A woman with a heart of gold and hair of the same shade. A small girl with curls as big and bright as her smile. The traveller had wept for days, weeks even, for the loss of his beloved family.

Their bodies had been found mauled, blood-spattered and bled white inside their lake-side home underneath a disturbing red emblem adorned on the wall. The man shivered at the image despite his thick winter coat.

On and on he rambled in a dazed, oblivious state. Past fields, across ravines, through villages full of happy, smiling families. It was painful seeing others enjoying the life and happiness he had so bitterly missed out on but there was little that could be done. No amount of praying or crying or screaming to the skies would bring his wife and child back; and God knows he had tried on many occasions.

No, this man was apparently destined to live out the remainder of his days alone and desolate. The only companionship he had found was in this faceless man he had met. What his ulterior motives were, the man couldn't quite place. But in the stranger he had found solace and anyone that showed even the slightest hint of humanity in this mad, mad world was a friend.

Now, as payment for his hospitality, the faceless man had charged him with the task to find something. Something valuable and precious. What that item was however, the traveller did not know.

"_An item of pure light. An object untouched by the flourishing darkness that pervades this world. It speaks of the deepest emerald hues and the strongest kind of spirit of all. You must find it and bring it to me immediately. Do you understand?"_

But the stranger did not understand. What on earth matched the faceless man's description? Nothing had sprung to mind even after many days and nights of endless deliberation. And so he had ambled on and on along an endless path in search of something he would not have been able to identify if it was held in front of his face.

In defeat, the man came to a stop and perched on a rock and rested his head in his coarse, cold hands. A few tears escaped from his eyes and rolled slowly down his sallow cheeks as he sighed dejectedly.

Everything was going wrong. There was nothing left to do. His life was utterly meaningless. With tired, time-worn eyes, he glanced about his immediate surroundings; a gnarled, weather-beaten tree; a rotting log infested with insects; the rock on which he sat and a length of dirty, tattered rope wrapped around the trunk of another tree.

Without a second thought, he stood and reached out for the rope. It was frayed but still strong. It would do for what he had in mind anyway. That twisted tree would be suitable enough. It was a nice quiet area. Peaceful. With rigid movements he yanked the rope away from the trunk and carried it over to the older tree where he began to knot it around a high branch.

_Hang on, Angela. Hang on Charlotte. I'll be there soon. I'm coming._

In his mind he knew this was wrong. This shouldn't be happening. He should carry on searching and carry on _living._ But the temptation was so strong… It was all there, the power was in his hands to end it all now. It would be so easy to just let go.

"Just let go…"

With one last look at the sky, he apologised for all the mistakes he had made. His mind was made up. This was it. He couldn't carry on.

He was just another damaged man broken beyond repair.

**A/N: Next one will be up very soon! Maybe…Tonight?! :O We'll see!**


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